Saturday, December 25, 2010

It would be totally wrong and sinful not to pause a moment just to scream "MERRRRRRY CHRISTMAS TO YA'LL!!!!!!"

MWUAH MWUAH MWUAH Kissssses all over the place!Hope you're having a fab day, and if it doesnt rock so hard, simply cozy up with a good movie and enjoy watching the day pass!!!Or better still,cozy up with your laptop and enjoy some of the T.Notes classics!Serious.

Merry xmas Lara,2cute,musco,Abi,Ade,YN my girl whoop whoop!!!!,neefemi,paraket,olufunmi,LDP,my new pal Modupe,Miss Fab!,Naijalines,Myne,Mr talkaholic,Vera!!!and if i forget your mention, just assumme that i am totally knackered at the time of penning these thoughts!

Ho ho ho ho ho all!

P.S, yes christmas, as a day could truly be overated, it's really all a thing of the heart/mind, so be like me and choose happy.

P.P.S, Got some miracle cash so coming term's fees and some month's rent is sorted. Still need a job though to survive bills!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

I’ve got a huge folder teeming with uncompleted blogs n notes! In a moment of gay, i’ll do my best to compile all into one jolly good random! P.S, London for the xmas holidays. Leaving in a few hours. I’d better have internet!

Why should i get married? I seem to have lost all interest in the concept! Maybe i’m a selfish dick, but i love my life. I have loads of all sorts of friends that i’m just not ready to give up and become a responsible married man. And that is the least of my reasons.

I love the corrs. Always have. Its always been my fantasy to get married to Andrea and stare into her irish eyes all day long over Spanish El desayuno and warm blackcurrants. For Andrea, i would get married.

Last night was beautiful...and no durex satchets were harmed during the course of the hours. Seven grown men and women cozied in a warm bedroom guffawed the night away whilst it snowed outside. Somewhat reminiscent of that scene in sound of music where they sang ‘my favourite things’ whilst a storm brewed outside. No, conversations were mostly not cultured.

I started out kidding about it, but it seems i really do have a crush of some sort on French Cc!

Sigh. I’m fast getting broke. Been frantically rying to get a job before it becomes a real problem. The life of a self funded international student is another world altogether. There’s no getting around that day of reckoning where you’ll start counting the pennies.

Boredom takes you to strange places. I recently discovered the underground world of live tease cam websites. Its really like walking into those victorian style brothels with an array of rooms for the numerous ‘models’. Without mincing words, the center of attention is a lone woman transmitting via webcam her doings with fingers and sex toys. There were streaming 832 ‘models’ that night in that one website, and all girl-next-door kind of people. I could really have sworn that i’ve met ‘Jayden Kane’ and ‘Texas4cum’ somewhere before along bhm streets or in school! Are girls students by daytime and webcam models by night making some extra cash??Lol, would i take up a webcam job to make some extra cash?!

SexChatsites...I honestly was only fooling around. But what do u know, i got a few mails this morning:

You have received a new message from another V...user.Hey Stranger, hope you well, thanks for getting back to me. I did not think these sites worked! I'm attaching a pic and if you are ok with what I look like then maybe contact me on my personal addy, its ......@gmail.com and I'll tell you a bit more about myself, hopefully we can get something going, chat soon, Dolli.

Did i mention D’s friend who stayed the weekend? Then joined a lone me early in the morning where i was busy working on my stock returns models. She’s clad in skimpy lace pants and some kind of bra-top. “Hi..could you give me a hand, the shower doesn’t seem to be coming on.”“Oh Jesus...”I mutter as i try to keep my gaze on a face and not on her skin.”“Uhmmm, yeah sure, let’s have a look at it.”I follow the chic into the bathroom and notice that her night gown lay discarded on the floor.....

I feel like i’m living in those xmas hallmark movies with all these frigging snow that just won’t stop!

Monday, December 13, 2010

2Cute4u left a comment on my last pages saying, I don’t understand you anymore. I thought about that for a moment, then shook my head and replied briefly, saying, yeah, i don’t understand myself either much these days. I think it was Socrates who quoted saying ‘the only thing i know is that i know nothing. I think that about sums it up. I will explain.

I initially started out these pages with the intention of theatrical entertainment, i.e make believe- that’s what we do in theater, i guess. But somewhere along the line, it’s safe to say i discovered that i really wasn’t talking make believe anymore. Most of the drama i was pouring out herein were either real life soaps from my own existence disguised as short fables, or, the less noble intentions of my soul which i was struggling to conceal. Subsequently, in response to my poster-guy sort of life, i caught the poster-guy sin-drone, which i will explain in a little bit.

Whilst i was in the university, Jaci velasques was quite famous as a Christian musician. Her songs were 1st spiritual, then a little more trendy, until the last album which i heard of when she bleated out, ‘this is the real me, can you take it?!’ Jaci isn’t the 1st person living a exhibitionist life who at some point in time felt sick of the high expectations and needed to break out with seeming rebellion. Hey, even more recently is Keri hilson’s latest release, the way you f*ck me. If you haven’t heard it or seen the vid, i’m not sure it’s still on you tube due to its disturbingly explicit content. Poster-person sin-drone is when your life has for so long been an epitome of propriety, or decorum, that you start to get sick of it and just need to break out. That is where i found myself and it’s really nothing new under the sun. But here is my catch 22. What does a waiter do when he’s handling ten plates of expensive china in all hands and discovers he’s got an itch in his crotch? You see, there’s such a point where you just cannot afford to let the plates crash to the ground in abandon, yet how deeply that itch scratches like a cockroach in the pants!

Where the conflict of interest laid is, ok, i wanted to write, that’s all i’ve ever really known to do-well except for all the finance and maths bullish. But there is obviously a seeming deception if you are writing what you do not entirely believe in. And i’m just the kind of person who needs to be firm about anything i ever wanted to say. Have you ever felt like, who the f*ck am i anyways?! P.s, in my former life, i hardly use swear words whereas the past year has seen me sliding fast down this slippery slope of utter disarrangement such that for every new day, i’d stare at myself in the mirror and question, who the heck is this stranger?! Note that, this is hardly a self esteem issue. If it was, i wouldn’t be indulging into half of the things or interactions that i get up to. Somehow, someway, i just don’t even give a rat’s ass anymore such that timidity hardly becomes a problem. I’d pull up a chair and have long chats with total strangers like we were lifemates buds. So i meet the best and the worst of the lot without an iota of condemnation from my part. Why? Because i have discovered that deep within, i am non better, our intentions are all screwed up when we come face to face to the worst of it. Which is why subsequently i get myself into all sorts of untidy situations such as having to currently unravel unrestrained conversations that led to, ‘yeah, sure, come over midnight, i’m pretty much idle’. Mind you, in this regard, my depravity has only sunk to a certain extent and gone no further. But yet frankly, i summise that even that is just a matter of time.

So dear dear whomever has briefly deemed to wonder or concluded and judged otherwise. Sit with me at midnight over a meal of French marinated mushroom and let me point the fact as of the life of c.s lewis. There exists a whole world of writers and scribblers, but alas, it is useful to pause at some point to question if you believe to the gut of your soul the fluidity that your pen strokes unto parchment. Do you write simply for entertainment, then that is fine. But if you seek to reach deeper and relay one simple message even for the rest of your existence, then it’d better be worth your life. In that regard, who is a writer if he does not know who he is in the first place?

P.S, if i was as fickle as the rest of the lot, then observe within the lines that these musings would hardly be occurring in the first place, neither is there a struggle to maintain a standard if there wasn’t in the first place a regime of moral authority within. Martin Luther said, ‘Be a sinner and let your sin be strong, but let your trust in Christ be stronger...’. You see, the reason why most people give up and abandon a walk of faith is when they come face to face with the seeming impossibility to plough ahead and break a certain vices. Most times we just give up and say, hey what the heck! But sometimes, you just aren’t afforded the luxury of saying, what the heck and let the whole thing come crashing down. In my response, i temporarily put aside my previously lofty aspirations of saving the world, and just concentrate on screaming my thoughts out till i can save just one significant person...i.e, myself.

P.S, this is not an affrontation at 2cute4u...you’re still my blogsville crush! *wink*

Friday, December 10, 2010

I am waiting for you by the edge of the North Pier with the sun slowly setting ahead. How I wish you’d come on time to catch the view with me. The waters have quietened from the day’s turmoil and now only occasional lap gently against the pier’s wooden base. Should you show up, I’ll be the guy leaning against the barricade staring ahead into the blackening waters. I am hoping i would soon see you up ahead, my face would light up, i’d hurry to meet you, then we’d walk the length of this scenic pier together whilst i map out to you the many words off my heart. If you are reading these letters however, it means my heart must have sank with the rest of the depleting sunset- because you did not come. And in a last bid of hope, i have remained here constructing fine words into the wings of childish paperplanes, watching each one float seamlessly into space.

What do you think about hope? I picked these words up along the way coming here:

“I dare to believe that the luckless will get lucky someday in you. You won’t let them down; orphans won’t be orphans forever. The victim’s faint pulse (will) pick up; the hearts of the hopeless (will) pump red blood as you put your ear to their lips (and finally pay attention to the whispered words off their hearts). Psalms 10.

I have realized of late that life has made me become somewhat of a sceptic. But what do you call it –sceptism, realism or faithlessness? Such as how I have no problems with hope, only that even in hope i find it easier to hold a sensible alternative should there be no light at the end of the tunnel, Should the doctors say there is no use holding on anymore, or should you get a call that she didn’t make it (i light candles in quiet thoughts of you). For me, hope is like being stuck within a musty maze of dark underground tunnels. It’s the little candle light I hang onto as I meander my way around in confusion, hoping to find an exit into brighter days. But whilst i accept hope, i also hold a back thought that at the end of the route that i presently travel, there just might maybe another dead end. The ray of light i thought i saw might turn out to only be a crack in the stone walls and not the exit i was praying for. So all the while that i travel, i am constructing backup plans as anaesthetics to likely disappointments. That is the way i have hoped.

It’s worked for me so far, until now- which is why i desperately called out to you. There comes a point where there’s no backup strong enough to lighten the weight of a possible disappointment. Where even with the best of my creativity, i know only two things could happen this time around- either my soul dies, or you show up and step into this mess. That’s the point where i am right now. (Ooh, i think i just saw a dolphin! You really should be here; you’re missing out on all these fine view! Quiet...i realize that I miss you!....yet at the same time, i question if i ever knew you. But i’m taking baby steps. It’s all still a mess, but ooh look at me, i’m walking!)

It’s getting dark now, i’d have to return home soon, but i’ll be back; i’m not giving up just yet. That’s the thing about reaching breaking point, and remembering why and how i got to this place that i am. When you walk away due to ardent discontent, then the alternative just has to work out. And this is the alternative that i am carefully trying to live out. I long ran out of extra tricks and back up plans. So in this place, it’s me and you- life or death. And sublimely, it all comes back to the question of hope, doesn’t it? And i guess it does make it even more desperate, because you just have to show up, and in the meantime, i just have to remain, holding on, hoping. There’s a bunch of Brazilian kids ahead doing some kind of drum rehearsals. The music from the drumbeat is familiar..i’ve heard it before in a place long ago, and funny enough, it was with me and you. The significance this time around is different. This time it sounds like the tune of my heart beating. A song of hope, yet at the same time a song of war. An adage says, don’t mess with the cat that’s on its last life. Since i choose not to die just yet, then we’re fighting this route through to the end. And the end for me is only that abundant life i have long dreamed of---wide open spaces for the pursuit of my heart’s many respites.